


Please Don't Let Me Forget

by Shmin



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anyway tired, Character Death cause Wilbur, Domestic Fluff, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ghostbur, Heavy DreamSMP Spoilers, I Also Like to Write Them In Pain, I Love SBI So Much, I have a lot of thoughts, Light Angst, Maybe Swearing Who Knows, More angst, SBI Brainrot is what I have, The warnings under no warnings scare me, Thought dump, Wilbur is such a good actor and writer, no beta we die like schlatt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27666592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shmin/pseuds/Shmin
Summary: Ghostbur has dementia now I guess, thank you Wilbur Soot for providing more angst. This one isn't as well-written as my last one because I'm far too tired to revise and edit this so it's just however little editing I did in the moment so have fun with the wonky timing.
Relationships: Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 4
Kudos: 124





	Please Don't Let Me Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Also, dementia is horrific and I read a lot on it after a certain couple of albums so I thought dumped this. Please, don't take my comparisons seriously it's just there for lack of better words :)

Wilbur pursed his lips, staring at the book with a lost and yet distinct perplexity etching its way into his features. It entailed writings of things that he apparently remembered, although he only recalled half of the things on the list. He recognized the handwriting to be his own, yes. He couldn’t recall any of the things he wrote no matter how hard he tried, however.  
  


It took him little time to figure out that he must’ve forgotten what he’d written, when had he written the book? It’d been recent, which only meant that he was rapidly losing his memory.  
  


He connected it to dementia, although his body couldn’t deteriorate like with living humans, the terror of forgetting still lingered.  
  


Wilbur bit his lip, quickly running out to find Phil. His father wouldn’t lie to him, he trusted Phil to help as best as he could. Wilbur could always rely on his father to be there for him, right?  
  


He approached Techno’s secret base, floating down the water easily. When he drifted into the base, he spotted Phil sorting the numerous chests littered around.  
  


“Phil, help,” Wilbur pleaded, standing from the water pool and walking over to his father,  
  


Phil turned, a soft smile at the sight of his son, “Yeah? What’s up, Wil?”  
  


The taller held up the book, “I wrote this book to mark down the things I remember from when I was alive. I swear I wrote this recently, at most a couple hours ago, but I can’t remember half the things on this list.”  
  


The blonde hummed, taking the book from his son and flipping through the few pages written in inside. He chuckled at some of the things written but quickly sobered up toward the end. Even the general aura of the book was sad, it held a melancholy that could only be felt by being there to hold the item.  
  


“I’m forgetting, Phil. I don’t want to forget, can you stop it?” Wilbur asked, anxiously awaiting Phil’s response.  
  


“Wilbur, I’ve never been able to deal with ghosts before. I could try to find an expert but I don’t think most people can see ghosts,” Phil frowned, still determined to try to find a cure at seeing the despair dancing within Wilbur’s ghostly eyes.  
  


The brunette suddenly choked back a sob, wrapping his ghost arms around his father.  
  


“Phil, please, help me. I don’t want to forget you. I love everyone here so much, I don’t want to forget them,” Wilbur pleaded, clinging onto the shorter as if any moment he’d forget his own father. His pleading continued and he sunk into his father’s embrace, tears streaming down his face.  
  


Stroking his son’s back comfortingly, Phil wracked his brain for anything similar. Usually, the best solution for patients with this sort of dilemma was to just end their suffering as there wasn’t a sure cure yet. Wilbur was already dead, though, so what could they do?  
  


Phil had wanted to bring Wilbur back somehow from day one, so they could always do that. Although, there were sure to be consequences to something as dangerous as messing with life and death.  
  


Would Wilbur return as insane as he left? Or maybe he’d return but still forget, an eternal punishment of forgetting all memories he forged with those he loved. Perhaps someone would have to die in Wilbur’s place, any possibilities were viable when it came to the occult.  
  


Phil gently ran his fingers through his son’s hair, “Wilbur, don’t worry. I’ll do everything I can to help you, okay? Just try to remember as best you can until then, alright? We’ll find something, everyone will. Fundy, Techno, Tommy, Niki, remember them? We’ll all help.” Wilbur nodded, trying to bring himself to fully believe in the fact that he’d be able to remember all those people. He once remembered more, but now he could barely remember anyone.  
  


“What happens if nothing works, Phil? Will I forget you? I don’t want to forget you, dad, I love you,” Wilbur sobbed, clinging to his father.  
  


It hurt Phil to hear the sheer desperation in Wilbur’s tone, it burned him more than being submerged inside a volcano. He wanted so desperately to keep his son safe from pain, he’d failed him once and he swore he wouldn’t fail again.  
  


“Something will work, Wilbur, I promise. I’ll always be here for you, my son. It will be okay,” Phil reassured, his voice hushed. He slowly sunk to the ground, holding his eldest son tightly as they did when Wilbur was just a child.  
  


Oh, how time had passed by so quickly.  
  


One day he was holding his first son in his arms, cherishing the way he laughed giddily while he sang about the fictional land of L’Manburg. Now, he was holding his son just the same, trying to hold him for just a little longer.  
  


Every single memory Wilbur had written into that book Phil remembered as well, either through tales told by friends and family or by experience. It devastated Phil to learn that such precious memories could escape Wilbur. He knew that it’d eat him from the inside if he forgot something so important as his own sons’ growing up or sparring with a sibling.  
  


Even if one or two memories were delusions to protect him, they weren’t something Phil could ever even begin to imagine the pain of losing.  
  


Phil couldn’t lie to himself, he didn’t know if anything would work, but by god was he determined to try every single possibility given to save his son.  
  


His mind bounced in twenty different directions at once, overcome with the need to cling onto any and all possibilities of helping Wilbur. Phil calmed enough to realize that he couldn’t do everything alone, though.  
  


“Wilbur, I need to go find everyone else to help, okay? Do you want to stay with us?” Phil asked, gently lifting his son’s head from his shoulder. Even if his ghost tears didn’t affect him at all, they left cold marks where they would’ve fallen.  
  


The ghost of his son nodded, “Please,” he responded, standing to follow Phil out the cramped base.  
  


Phil gathered everyone to L’Manburg’s podium area through the communicator, holding Wilbur’s hand just as they did when he was a little boy. The pair watched everyone gather and take seats.  
  


Tubbo gave Phil a worried smile, allowing the older to say whatever he collected the entirety of their group for.  
  


Wilbur drifted to sit between Tommy and Fundy, glancing between the many faces surrounding him. He faintly registered Phil explaining the predicament, his brain too occupied with trying to connect anything to the faces giving him concerned looks.  
  


Tommy, Techno, Fundy, Niki, and Phil he definitely still remembered. Eret, Dream, and Qauckity he barely remembered the names of. A couple of others he could connect certain items, events, places, or feelings with them. A few he had no idea who they were, Wilbur felt terrible at not being able to recall anything of them. He wanted to so desperately, staring intently at their faces until it hurt to look anymore.

He was staring at a blonde with baby blue eyes and gold chains around his neck when Tommy snapped his fingers in front of Wilbur’s face. The older blinked, “What?”  
  


“Why were you staring at Punz like that?” he asked, a hint of both annoyance and distress in his words.

Wilbur smiled, “Ah, Punz! Right, Punz, that’s his name,” he mumbled to himself. Tommy’s face fell, horrified at learning that Phil wasn’t straight up just lying about Wilbur’s dementia-like mental state.  
  


His brother’s reaction was too genuine and immediate to be faked, even Tommy couldn’t do that on the spot.  
  
Tommy turned to everyone else, “Niki and I will record what and who Wilbur remembers every hour,” he announced. Niki quickly agreed, everyone else seeming to be satisfied with her job.  
  


The other people were halved into who would research any possible solutions and who would collect resources. Despite them being different sides, the fear of knowing that they could end up in Wilbur’s dilemma if they didn’t do something trailed behind them closely as they ran off.  
  


“Wilbur, I’m gonna hold up cards of everyone’s face one by one. Tell me their name and whatever you remember of them.” Wilbur nodded, sitting down in front of Tommy and Niki.  
  


Tommy quickly scribbled everyone’s faces onto papers, he held up a paper of Phil.  
  


“Phil, dad, I love him a lot. I remember growing up being raised by him with you and Techno,” he immediately responded, his smile wide at the memories of childhood.  
  


Then, Techno.  
  


“Technoblade, my brother, both biologically and in arms until the end. I miss his smile, do you think I could duel him again and beat him now that I’m a ghost?”  
  


Niki chuckled softly, moving her hand as fast as she could to retain as much of the information verbatim as she could. She shrugged, “Probably, I believe in you, Wilbur!”  
  


The ghost chuckled, “Thanks, Niki.”  
  
  
Tommy pointed to himself nervously, putting on a confident smile he asked, “How about me, big man?”  
  


“Tommyinnit, the biggest child I’ve ever met,” Wilbur scoffed, affectionately ruffling the younger’s hair when he began to splutter gibberish. The pair shared a laugh, the air was warm and content, everything was fine in that one moment.  
  


Soon, he returned to listing off those he knew.  
  


“Niki Nihachu, baker girl with a heart of goal.”  
  


“Tubbo, the kid we picked up from the streets and took in.”  
  


“Fundy, my son, I love and cherish him every day. It’s so nice to see him standing with you and Tubbo again after so long.”  
  


“Eret, right? I think that’s right.”  
  
  
“Ah, maybe Dream? The one that’s a dickhead?”  
  


“Big Q, no, Quackity, are they different? I can’t remember.”  
  


Then, it got worse from there. Each time Tommy held up a face, Wilbur listed off how he felt from seeing their face or what object/place he thought of when seeing them. It was painful to see and hear, watching as their former glorious leader slowly continue to lose his mind. This time it was literal, Tommy was sure that something was eating at his physical brain for it to be losing memories that quickly.  
  


The sun was setting when they finally decided to move their recordings inside so they wouldn’t get jumped by mobs.  
  


As they entered Tommy’s home Niki curiously turned to Wilbur, “Wait, um, Wil? Do ghosts need to sleep?”  
  


Wilbur quirked his head, “No, but I’d like to usually. I’m scared I’ll forget more if I do sleep, though,” he responded solemnly. Understanding, the other two lead him up to Tommy’s makeshift bedroom area.  
  


“Alright, we’ll be up all night I guess then. Damn, didn’t know you’d be a fucking even when dead,” Tommy grumbled. Wilbur chuckled softly, leaning into Tommy’s uncut hair.  
  


“I love you, too, you child,” Wilbur sighed, hoping he’d still remember the blonde for at least a few more days. He hoped he’d remember everyone he remembered then and there for at least a few more days. It was a faithfully monstrous act of whatever caused the misfortune for Wilbur to be tortured so long after his death.

By that point, he’d forgotten why he felt tear stains on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Would you guys like more SBI angst or some fluff? I have both prepared but I'm kind of stuck on which I should finish. Or maybe some Dream and Techno because I really like their friendship.


End file.
